


Outgunned at Nagashino

by ficbear



Category: Samurai Warriors
Genre: Beating, Bondage, Dom/sub, Face Slapping, Facials, Gunplay, M/M, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-24
Updated: 2012-03-24
Packaged: 2017-11-02 11:13:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/368359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ficbear/pseuds/ficbear
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The look of hunger on Yukimura's face as Nobunaga draws his pistol confirms everything Mitsuhide suspected. The boy's gaze stays locked on the barrel of the gun, even as Nobunaga points it toward him. Mitsuhide has seen men have the same reaction to the sight of a blade, to the form of a well-made sword or a finely-wrought spear — and of course, any weapon wielded by his lord is captivating to <em>him</em> — but Yukimura's fascination with the pistol is novel even for him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Outgunned at Nagashino

"Kneel," Mitsuhide orders, expecting to have to enforce the command with his own hands. So many times before, he has brought captives before his lord and watched them struggle and curse, resisting their fate to the last. To his surprise, Yukimura sinks to the ground without complaint. The young prisoner's armour is scuffed, his clothes are soaked with rain, his face is scratched and speckled with the blood of his comrades, and yet he kneels before Nobunaga as serenely as if he were meditating.

"Shingen's little tiger cub…" Nobunaga seems amused, and reaches out a hand to grasp the boy's chin. "Did you stray too close to our blockade?"

"One of your bodyguards spotted him, my lord, charging toward the barricades as if he meant to break through them single-handedly." Mitsuhide watches the boy's expression closely. The touch of his lord's hand seems to stir something in Yukimura, but whether it's fear or something more fruitful remains to be seen. The rain hammers against the roof of the tent, and gunshots ring out in the distance. Each blast of gunfire makes Yukimura jump, and the young captive's eyes return again and again to the holster at Nobunaga's hip.

"Did you really think you had a chance, boy?"

"No." Yukimura's bound hands clench into fists, belying the calm expression on his face as he looks up at the older man. "But nevertheless, I couldn't give up."

Nobunaga is silent for a moment, rising from his seat as if to inspect the boy more closely, and comes to rest just a few inches away from where Yukimura kneels. As Nobunaga raises his hand, Mitsuhide abruptly recognises the look in his lord's eyes.

"Recklessness!" Nobunaga shouts, bringing his fist down across Yukimura's face. The boy yelps, and a second blow cuts off his cry, reddening the same cheek to a deep, rosy hue. He looks up at Nobunaga, his eyes wide and his lips bloodied, and begins to speak.

"W-what-"

"Does your lord allow such foolhardiness?" Nobunaga rebukes him as harshly as if the boy was one of his own men, and brings his fist down again, knocking Yukimura to the ground.

The fire in Nobuanga's eyes, the fear and confusion in Yukimura's face, the bright streak of blood smeared across the boy's mouth, all makes for a captivating sight, but Mitsuhide begins to wonder if he should intervene. He's watched his lord deliver beatings before, and felt those merciless hands on his own body countless times, and he knows just how tireless his lord's appetite for cruelty can be. But whether Nobunaga is merely toying with the boy or has actually lost control is a mystery, and Mitsuhide isn't sure he wants to take the chance of guessing incorrectly.

"My lord, perhaps it wasn't recklessness that led Yukimura into your hands after all." He crouches by the boy, and runs the pad of his thumb across the bloodied curve of Yukimura's lips. A glance up at his lord tells Mitsuhide that he's on the right track. "Perhaps he allowed himself to be captured deliberately. Perhaps…" Mitsuhide pauses, gently pushing his thumb between the boy's lips, and smiles to himself as he meets no resistance at all. Yukimura's tongue is hesitant and light against his skin, and yet the boy doesn't pull away or make the faintest sound of protest. "Perhaps he wanted to get a closer look at the arquebusiers, my lord."

"Well?" Grabbing a handful of Yukimura's hair, Nobunaga yanks his head back sharply. "Is that what brought you here, boy?"

Yukimura looks away, steadfastly holding his tongue, until the blast of another barrage of gunshots shocks him out of his silence. He yelps, and tries to pull away from Nobunaga's grip.

Mitsuhide stands, and moves to his lord's side. "Look how fascinated he is by the sight of your pistol, my lord," he says, holding Yukimura's gaze as he lays one hand on the gun resting in Nobunaga's holster. "His eyes have barely left it for a moment since I brought him to you."

The look of hunger on Yukimura's face as Nobunaga draws his pistol confirms everything Mitsuhide suspected. The boy's gaze stays locked on the barrel of the gun, even as Nobunaga points it toward him. Mitsuhide has seen men have the same reaction to the sight of a blade, to the form of a well-made sword or a finely-wrought spear — and of course, any weapon wielded by his lord is captivating to _him_ — but Yukimura's fascination with the pistol is novel even for him.

"Is this what you wanted to see?" Nobunaga rests the muzzle of the gun against Yukimura's temple, and traces it down to the curve of his cheekbone.

The boy holds still, looking up at the older man silently, and leans into the metal's touch as if it were a gentle hand.

Nobunaga moves the muzzle down, stroking it lightly along the boy's jawline, and brings it to rest under his chin. "Answer me, Yukimura."

"Yes," the boy says finally, swallowing hard as the tip of the gun presses against him. "I wanted to see it for myself."

"Then I'll grant your wish."

With a cruel smile, Nobunaga brings the barrel of the pistol down across Yukimura's cheek and knocks him to the ground again. The boy cries out, but this time he stays where he falls, cowering on the ground at Nobunaga's feet. Mitsuhide recognises the tension in Yukimura's voice, the taut energy in the boy's posture. His arousal is unmistakeable, despite the fear in his eyes.

"My lord is too generous…" Mitsuhide says, hauling Yukimura up to his knees once more. This time he holds the boy in place, wrapping his arms around those narrow shoulders, keeping Yukimura exactly where Nobunaga wants him. "Aren't you going to thank him for his kindness?"

Mitsuhide can hear the boy's breath growing shallow, his throat swallowing dryly, his voice cracking as he begins to speak. "I…" Yukimura trails off, as if the words have deserted him. "I can't…"

Nobunaga's hand swings down again, and again the barrel of the pistol cracks across Yukimura's cheek, knocking the boy's head back with the force of the blow. Mitsuhide holds onto him, one arm tightly wound around his chest, and brings his free hand up to grip the boy's chin, turning his bruised face back toward Nobunaga.

"I know what you want, Yukimura." Mitsuhide brings his lips close to the boy's ear, and presses the length of his body to Yukimura's back. "I know what you're yearning for, and the only way you'll get the slightest taste of it is if you do as you're told."

"I… I understand." The boy's voice is barely audible, and Mitsuhide can feel his heartbeat hammering in his chest.

"Then ask for what you want." The commands Mitsuhide is giving Yukimura are so much like the ones he received himself all those years ago, so sweetly familiar, that he can't help but smile. He glances up at his lord, and sees the same flicker of nostalgia in the older man's eyes.

"I want…" Faltering, the boy tenses in Mitsuhide's arms for a moment, before he seems to push through his doubts. "I want to taste it."

"Open your mouth." Nobunaga orders, bringing the muzzle of the gun up to Yukimura's lips.

Yukimura complies immediately. The barrel slides easily between his lips, and a muffled groan seeps from his throat, faint and soft, as it fills his mouth. Mitsuhide admires his lord's self-control; the sight of those blood-smeared lips stretched around the dark metal of the pistol would have overwhelmed his own restraint in moments. Nobunaga shows no signs of snapping yet, though, and slides the barrel of the gun slowly and steadily back and forth over the boy's tongue as if he has infinite patience. Yukimura himself seems to be the least patient of the three of them, and Mitsuhide can feel him tensing and shivering, pulling gently against the ropes that bind his wrists.

"If only your hands were free…" Mitsuhide says, stroking a fingertip over the boy's throat. "You want to touch yourself, don't you?"

A choked moan hums in the back of Yukimura's throat, muffled by the metal between his lips, and he pushes back against Mitsuhide's body eagerly. The boy's answer is clear in every twitch and quiver of his body, but Mitsuhide knows better than to expect his lord to be satisfied with that. Nothing less than complete honesty, candour and vulnerability will satisfy the Demon King. Mitsuhide is certain of that.

Nobunaga pulls the barrel back until the tip of it is resting against the boy's lips, wet and gleaming with saliva. "Answer him, Yukimura."

"Yes!" Breathless and desperate, the boy tips his head back and leans against Mitsuhide's shoulder. "Please, touch me."

The gun slides back into the boy's mouth, driving another muffled groan from him. Unfastening Yukimura's armour, Mitsuhide marvels at the power of his lord's allure. The most courageous and virtuous of Shingen's men is here on his knees, rendered helpless with lust, offering himself up and begging to be touched. If Nobunaga can turn even the upstanding Yukimura into a whimpering plaything, then Mitsuhide has to wonder if there is any limit at all to his lord's abilities. The boy's limbs tense as soon as Mitsuhide's hand curls around his cock, and for a moment it seems as if Yukimura might be on the verge of losing control already. Loosening his grip, Mitsuhide strokes the boy lightly, as if he's petting a nervous animal; for all he knows, this might be the first time Yukimura has felt the touch of another man's hands, and stronger prisoners than him have been spent quicker, defeated in moments by the humiliation of kneeling at Nobunaga's feet.

Another moan spills from the boy's lips, and Mitsuhide looks up to see the barrel of the pistol sliding out of Yukimura's mouth, its place taken quickly by his lord's cock. Replacing the cold metal of the gun with hot flesh seems to drive Yukimura into a frenzy. Pushing up into Mitsuhide's grip, the boy whimpers desperately as Nobunaga fucks his mouth in short, rapid thrusts. Mitsuhide watches his face, his half-closed eyes and hollowed, bruised cheeks, and the desperate working of the boy's throat as he tries to relax around the older man's cock. Perhaps Yukimura hasn't tasted this kind of pleasure before, but even if the boy is a novice, he's certainly eager and driven enough to compensate for his inexperience.

Nobunaga pulls back abruptly, and his harsh groan of satisfaction fills the air. With his mouth suddenly unoccupied, Yukimura cries out freely, yelping in shock as the older man's come spatters across his face. A sudden pang of envy grips Mitsuhide, and he quickens the pace of his hand. Punishing the boy for having the good fortune to earn Nobunaga's favour is perhaps a little unfair, Mitsuhide realises, but Yukimura brought the risk of cruel treatment upon himself the moment he charged the blockade. Tightening his grip, Mitsuhide works the boy's cock ruthlessly, revelling in every moan that falls from those bloodied lips. Yukimura's body is a simple toy to manipulate, and in moments Mitsuhide has the boy hovering on the brink of satisfaction.

"Hold him still." Nobunaga orders, bringing the pistol up and aiming it squarely at Yukimura's head.

For a moment Mitsuhide is unsure if he really intends to shoot the boy — there is little he would not believe his lord capable of — but at the last moment Nobunaga angles the barrel away and pulls the trigger. Yukimura yelps as the bullet flies past his ear. With the gunshot still ringing in the air, the boy bucks wildly against Mitsuhide's hand as he begins to climax, crying out as desperately as if each spray of come is being wrenched from him by force. Shudders ripple through the boy's body as the pleasure gradually subsides, and in moments Yukimura grows quiet, trembling weakly and silently in Mitsuhide's arms.

"Tidy him up and take him away." Nobunaga's command is curt and matter-of-fact, as if all that had occurred was a simple beating.

"Yes, my lord." Mitsuhide nods, wiping his hand clean on Yukimura's shirt, and watches his lord walk away. Once the older man has disappeared entirely from view, Mitsuhide rises to his feet and pulls the boy up with him.

"Fortune smiles on you." He says softly, refastening Yukimura's armour. The boy leans against him heavily, and Mitsuhide has to lead him slowly, step by faltering step, toward the door. "Not everyone survives an encounter with my lord."


End file.
